Read Song Chaser (Chasers) Online
Authors: Kandi Steiner
Song Chaser (Chasers) (35 page)
And finally, all thanks goes to my God for blessing me with a writer’s heart and a dreamer’s drive. I would be nothing without your love and I am beyond thankful for this amazing life you’ve given me.
Kandi Steiner is a Creative Writing and Advertising/Public Relations graduate from the University of Central Florida living in Tampa with her husband, Ryan Steiner. Kandi works full time as a social media specialist, but also works part time as a Zumba fitness instructor and blackjack dealer.
When Kandi isn’t working or writing, you can find her reading books of all kinds, talking with her extremely vocal cat, and spending time with her friends and family. She enjoys beach days, movie marathons, live music, craft beer and sweet wine – not necessarily in that order.
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Bronson is a 27 year old successful advertising professional, but the most exciting part of her life happens outside of work. Claiming the life of a Tag Chaser toward the end of her college career has taught her one thing: Never get too close. She has enjoyed her dating lifestyle, but when her best friend makes a bet that she won't ever be able to date a normal guy, her competitive nature takes control and she vows to change the game.
When Paisley meets the incredibly handsome and practically perfect Corbin Ray, she begins to think keeping her word might be easier than she thought. But when an accidental discovery reveals that Corbin is in the Army, she knows she must run the other way and never look back. Although it kills her, she aims to move on and look for a new prospect.
There's just one small problem.
Paisley's been assigned a new client at work, and his name is Corbin Ray.
Will Paisley and Corbin give in to the chemistry between them, or will their past and present complications keep them apart?
Fall in love with this fun and irresistibly naughty game of cat and mouse.
And now, an excerpt from Tag Chaser…
The Bet
“Why do you make it sound so dirty?” I ask, my face pinching up in resentment as I apply the last touch of liner under my left eye. “It’s not like I’m a prostitute or a stripper, Kenz.” McKenzie is absentmindedly swinging her legs off the edge of my bed and texting God knows who as she judges me. I want to be furious, but honestly I’ve come to learn this is just the way she is – blunt and sassy. It’s actually a relief from the group of girls I used to hang out with in college.
I gently use my finger to wipe away a small smudge just below my brow and cringe at the sight of the small wrinkles appearing at the corners of my emerald green eyes. Crows feet, my mom always called them.
Damn.
How is it that I just suddenly became twenty-seven? In my mind I stopped aging at twenty-one, but my body refused to accept that logic. I turn to face McKenzie abruptly, “Are my wrinkles as noticeable as I think they are?”
She looks up from her phone and stifles a laugh, “Paisley, you do not have wrinkles. Besides, aging is beautiful. Unless you’re Heidi Montag, then you’re just kind of screwed.”
I roll my eyes and walk swiftly to my closet, pulling out the little black dress I reserved specifically for tonight. It has a lacy overlay and an open back with a deep v-neck in the front that accentuates all my assets that haven’t failed me yet. As I slip it over my head, McKenzie continues.
“All I’m saying is, you used to be this little angel back in college and then you graduate and just decide all of a sudden you’re chasing tags. I don’t think it makes you a whore, but I mean I would maybe say it makes you whore-ish,” she says matter-of-factly, shrugging her shoulders and turning her attention back to her phone.
“It’s not like that. I’m not running around sleeping with everyone I meet, Kenz. I just happened to learn near the end of my college career that I desire a man in uniform,” I shoot back, trying not to sound defensive. If anything, I hope she hears the exhaustion in my voice. We’ve discussed this who knows how many times over the past four years but it doesn’t seem to change the fact that it’s still one of her favorite topics. I could tell her the real reason I enjoyed being a tag chaser, but it wasn’t something I felt comfortable talking to her about – or anyone else, for that matter. Visions of my mom’s face flood my mind and I can still see the look in Dad’s eyes. The guilt.
I shake the memory.
“Besides,” I throw in with a laugh, “Technically I’m not even the true definition of a tag chaser. I’m not trying to marry these guys, I just like having fun. Consider it me thanking them for their service.”
McKenzie laughs too, chucking a pillow across the room at me, “Seriously, Paisley?!”
I shrug and wink at her in the mirror. She goes back to her phone, so for the moment I’m safe from any more questions. After one last look over in the mirror at the dress, I run my fingers through the loose curls in my amber colored hair and grab my clutch. “So now that you’re finished judging me, can we focus on the fact that we are going to have a blast tonight and pretend like we’re not too old for this kind of shit?”
McKenzie hops off the bed, head still engulfed in the apparently very amusing conversation occurring on her phone and lets out a deep sigh, “Ugh, fine. But I’m just saying it might do you some good to explore other options, since apparently none of the men you’ve caught so far have filled whatever void you have.” She finally puts her phone away in her purse and links her arm in mine. “And yes,” she adds, “We are going to have a blast. And who said we were too old for anything? You act like we’re 70. Calm down, Grandma.”
I let out a breath of relief and return her smile as we head out the door. It’s been a rough week but I’m feeling great tonight, and I can’t wait to see what’s waiting downtown.
* * *
McKenzie is applying one final coat of lip gloss in her compact mirror as we sit in the back of the cab. Even for a cab it smells pretty bad, like an old gym locker, so we roll the windows down and try desperately to control our hair.
I watch her as she covers her lips flawlessly, wondering how she got all the great looks. Her long, thick blonde hair is straightened and flowing down to the middle of her back and her legs look like they go on for miles in the red dress and pumps she’s paired tonight. I sigh, looking back at my own reflection on my phone screen for my last touch ups. I looked great when I was standing in the mirror by myself at home, but next to her I feel like the ugly step sister.
“You ready? I need a drink in my hand stat,” she says, fastening the lid back on her gloss as we pull up to where the streets are closed downtown. I shove my phone in my purse in defeat and hand the cab driver a twenty.
Downtown Orlando is buzzing as usual for a Thursday night. There are plenty of college kids running around, but there’s also plenty of post-grad twenty-somethings like me and McKenzie. Some of them are with their significant others, the rest just as lonely as me. Or at least I like to think they might be. I can’t be the only woman approaching thirty who’s not wifed up. Can I?
It’s hot and muggy and I wish I would have applied another layer of hair spray to keep my loose curls from turning into a frizzy hot mess but it’s too late now. As we walk I’m clinging to my clutch and watching my heels wobble beneath my clumsy ankles. “I hate this damn cobblestone,” I say, almost tripping and falling into what looks like a college frat boy.
McKenzie laughs, “You would think you might be used to it by now. You
’ve lived here long enough.” She’s right, I’ve been in the Orlando area my entire life. You would think I would be able to walk downtown in heels by now.
I stick my tongue out at her and praise baby Jesus when we finally reach normal sidewalk. It’s easy for her to laugh, she’s got the posture and strut of a runway model. It’s still unbelievable to me that she hasn’t been scooped up yet, even though
she and Derek are basically dating but don’t want to put a title on it. I’m not arguing, though. I need my wing woman.
“Okay but seriously, Paisley. Talk to me for real. Let’s pretend I don’t fall for your bullshit, for a minute,” McKenzie has stopped right outside the front of Diggs, our favorite downtown spot. She’s got her hands on my shoulders and she’s staring at me like I’m a child about to be put in time out. I try to laugh and shake her off, but her left brow keeps rising as she waits for me to respond and she crosses her arms with purpose. When I realize she’s serious I sigh in defeat.
“Honestly, Kenz, I don’t know what you want me to say. I don’t think it’s that big of a deal.”
“Well, if it’s not that big of a deal then date different guys. Try something new. Do you want to be single forever?” She asks, as if it was just a normal everyday question.
“How’s work going? Isn’t the weather lovely? Do you want to be single forever?”
I turn to her and try to explain, “Listen, I promise it’s not as serious as you’re making it. I’m not hurting emotionally or hiding from anything,” that she needs to know about, anyway. “And I’m not sleeping around or doing anything dangerous. I really don’t see a problem with me casually dating some of the best men in the country. They are all really, really nice.”
“Then why don’t you stay with any of them? Things are good for a few weeks and then you’re back to square one,” she throws back.
Now I’m getting frustrated. Why do we always have to talk about this? You would think she was my mom. “I’m fine. Now can we go inside? What happened to needing a drink?”
“I bet you couldn’t date a normal guy. I bet you’ve got some sort of fear of falling for a guy who’ll actually stick around,” she says, tossing her hair behind her back. As she starts for Diggs, I tug on her wrist and spin her around to look at me. Her little blue eyes are challenging me and I can’t help but feel offended.
“I could, too! If I wanted to, I could date a regular Joe. But the point is that I don’t want to. So, if you’re done now – ”
“Prove it,” she adds, the words like ice off her tongue.
Shit.
Suddenly I feel overwhelmed by my competitive nature. I knew this shit would catch up to me. Back in high school and college it was fine to be competitive, great even. It meant I went hard to win and to be the best, no matter what. I would even go as far as saying it has helped me get where I am in my career. But now, I feel the slight disadvantage of needing to win everything sneaking up.
“I will!” I shout over the music from Diggs spilling out onto the street. “From this point on, I won’t date another military man. Period. Now can we go – ”
“Shake on it,” she says, extending her perfectly manicured hand to mine. Her left eyebrow is raised in amusement, like she knows I won’t really accept the challenge.
I can feel uncertainty bubbling inside. Can I really do this? Ever since college, dating military men has been my only safe way of getting the emotion I craved without giving the trust I knew didn’t exist. I can feel the anxiety showing on my face and I’m biting my lip in concentration. McKenzie drops her hand.